"I love how tiny and adorable you are!"
Growing up, I would hear countless compliments on how small and petite I was.
When puberty hit, anorexia took over. Because as a shy girl, my small size was the only thing people ever noticed about me.
Now "recovered," I hate myself even more.
A few months ago I was dating a guy who always told me that I was too hairy and that no one would love me.
These comments stuck to me like glue.
I asked one of my closest friends what he thought and his only response was, "Well you are really hairy, but I love you, so only one of those things is correct."
It hurt knowing that two people who were very important to me thought this. I constantly wondered who else thought this was true.
Shortly after my friend's comment I broke up with the guy and stopped talking to my friend.
Then I started dating another guy but never asked him if I was too hairy until today. His answer? "No."
The summer I turned 12 years old, I spent a lot of time at the local swimming pool. There was always something so calming about the water, whether it was the pool, the lake, the river. Playing in and being surrounded by water made me so comfortable. Being that comfortable was not a luxury I often had in my life, so I was especially thankful for these "retreats."
I had been working on perfecting my dive for a week or two, trying hard to keep up with those who made it look so effortless. I was so proud of the progress I had been making.
Then a boy I had a mild crush on said to me "The reason you can't dive is because of your back fat," and he laughed.
I was crushed. I had never even realized I had back fat. But as I twisted around and examined my body in the mirror, I did have a slight roll on each side, below my bra line.
I've had body image issues ever since, struggling with bouts of bulimia among other things.
To this day, when I look in the mirror as I dress, I am reminded of my imperfection, the cruel laughter at my expense.
I think of all the times over the past 15 years that I've silently agreed with him as I disapprovingly gazed at my flaws. And I'm kind of pissed about it, now as I end this story. How much of my self talk I've allowed to echo his voice since that day.
No more.
One day in high school, I was riding the bus home. It was a peaceful ride. I was reading my book, as I normally did, and keeping to myself.
All of a sudden I heard these two boys, one my age one older, start talking about me. These boys knew nothing about me, other than the fact that I was overweight.
They started talking about how gross it was to look at me, how I must be eating all the time to look like that. Then one of them said something that cut worse and deeper than anything else they had said: "She must not even care that she looks like that."
With that, a single tear hit the page I had stopped on.
Before I could even turn around to defend myself from these verbal attacks, they stood up and got off the bus.
I was left there, young, impressionable, and hurt.
They never knew the impact their words made on me, and they never will.
When I was sixteen I tried to tell my (alcoholic) mom that I had been raped four years prior. I don't know how I wanted her to respond, but I needed her to know.
As she lay on the couch, I spilled my guts about the older guy that took advantage of me years ago.
After I finish my story all she had to say was, "I knew you were promiscuous, but I didn't know it started that young."
She then proceeded to fall back asleep.
When I was in high school I wasn't attractive. I had fuzzy hair and acne. I had a pension for Marilyn Manson and black eyeliner. I wasn't trendy or popular. I didn't get asked out. I had average grades and excelled at seemingly nothing except science.
There were two stoner girls I always worked with in class. They were slim and pretty and nice enough. They liked me because I knew the answers and came up with the most interesting projects.
One day as I was walking into school I overheard them talking about me to someone in my class that, unsurprisingly, didn't know my name. They described me with the usual descriptors I was used to: fuzzy hair, goth.
But then they added in one that was new: big.
I took it to heart because it was a new jab, a new problem.
I confronted them later, and they explained that they meant no harm, as I am nearly 6 feet tall.
But my life from that point on revolved around my weight.
I ate 600 calories a day and worked out 3 hours a day for nearly 4 years. I spent the entirety of my adult life struggling with my weight.
I'm 30 now. I've been in and out of treatment. I don't know if I'll ever be all right with myself.
A little while ago I went to the local store to buy some groceries. I am not fit, nor thin. I am on the plus-size side.
Two girls were in the parking lot, randomly making fun of people that walked by and insulting them. As soon as I pulled up and parked, they immediately started saying things to me, but I couldn't hear them. Once I stepped out of the car, their laughter roared even louder.
They started saying how fat and ugly I was, that nobody would love me. Comment after comment, they would laugh louder and louder.
I kept on walking, ignoring them, but I took it personally. I was hurt and angry. I felt disappointed in myself, wondering if they were right about my appearance. I wanted to say something back, but I couldn't. I went into the store with their hurtful comments and laughter echoing in my head.
One day during my senior year of high school, I woke up late for school and came in with no eye makeup on. A girl who sat in front of me in class said, "You're not wearing any makeup?" I said no, and she replied, "But you're still pretty."
She said it with such disbelief and question in her voice, like she couldn't understand why I wasn't ugly.
It made me feel so awkward and uncomfortable. Seven years later it still comes to my mind.
I moved to Orange County in middle school and quickly learned how vapid and cruel wealthy, attractive teenagers can be.
I had never thought of myself as ugly until then.
On most days a group of boys would walk home behind me and shout hurtful things, my personal favorite being that I had traded tits for zits.
Fifteen years later, body dysmorphia accompanied by eating disorders, and countless hours staring at my face in the mirror wondering if I really am hideous, and their words still echo in my head.
When I was in college, my roommate (who I secretly adored and idolized) caught me on my way to work one morning. I had just put on my make-up , which at the time was a grueling one hour ordeal of primping and preening.
He said to me, "I don't understand how you can wake up looking so ugly and leave looking so beautiful."
These words still itch under my skin and burn into my heart.
It's been 12 years.
Has anyone ever made a fleeting comment about you that immediately became tattooed onto the front of your brain for all of eternity, impacting your self-perception and self-worth? Whether it was an offhand comment made by someone you love and respect or a fleeting declaration by someone you barely know, we share the moments that stick.
